A New Terror
by Mignun
Summary: Re-done. Smaug reigns as the new Dark Lord, only this time the pure-bloods are the targets. After finding out that they're living in a new world, the Company must band together to save their pure-bloods. Bilbo/Thorin. Modern day fic. Reincarnation fic.


**Author's Note:** Hello, this story is just a rehash of an old one. I didn't like how I started it, so I got rid of a chapter and redid another one. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, as I put a lot of work into it. If you do enjoy it, please review and alert. It'll mean a lot. I also ask if someone could offer to be my beta reader, or point me in the right direction of finding one. If you find anything wrong, please point it out as well.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

* * *

**Chapter One - The Long Expected Party**

Smaug had been his name. He had been a minor threat, a small blip on the Ministry's radar.

"Really, he won't succeed," many had said when asked about the man. The ideals of Voldemort had been lost by many in the Wizarding world. The only ones who would follow the man were in Azkaban, the prison now run by Aurors instead of Dementors.

The great Harry Potter, for example, wasn't afraid of the man. The moment he did something wrong, Smaug that was, Harry would haul the man to prison. So far, the man remained quiet, and there wasn't any indication of him creating an army. He was a man with a silly name, trying to gain attention. The real problem lied with Voldemort's old Death Eaters and Snatches, those who managed to sneak past guards and break out of Azkaban. It was an old game of cat and mouse that held Harry's attention.

Smaug was nobody, really.

Funny how wrong everyone was.

The pure-bloods never knew what hit them.

* * *

William smiled wryly. The party was to occur at his home, for old time's sake. This time, however, he was ready for fourteen people to invade his home (and privacy). So, the wizard went to the market that morning to get enough food fit for a feast. The feast, however, took him nearly all day to create. He tried his best to remember which person liked what, making him lose track of time. All he knew was that his old friends – his dear old, _alive_ friends – would be in his house once more. The thought sent his heart fluttering as he flitted about the kitchen, making sure that his magic kept up with his brisk pace.

The meal had just been finished being prepared when the first knock came.

The wizard wasn't shocked to see Dwalin as the first guest. Clad in a leather jacket and jeans, the used-to-be dwarf gave Bilbo one of his rare smiles. It wasn't long before Bilbo found himself hauled up in the air and in Dwalin's arms, all while the former dwarf chortled. "Yer still short!"

Bilbo chuckled into Dwalin's shoulder. "That I am, Master Dwarf. That I am."

After letting the former hobbit go, Dwalin sauntered into the kitchen, looking for food. A harried Bilbo chased after him. "No, no, no! You aren't going to eat until the others arrive!" he scolded when he caught Dwalin sniffing a chicken leg. The burly wizard harrumphed before throwing the piece of meat into a bowl of roasted potatoes. Dwalin then entered the living room to watch the Muggle telly Bilbo had there. It didn't take long for him to ask for help on how to use it.

"You've never dealt with a telly before?" Bilbo asked, incredulous when Dwalin shook his head.

"I was born into a pure-blood family in this life," Dwalin commented lightly as Bilbo gave him the remote control. "Aye, one of these things. What buttons do I press, laddie?"

Bilbo stifled a giggle when Dwalin began pressing random numbers before bringing the remote to his ear. "It's not a mobile, Dwalin. It goes with the telly. Here, let me show you."

Bilbo stole the remote from the oversized wizard, all while explaining the concept of pointing the remote at the telly. He showed Dwalin how the little red circle towards the top of the remote turned the television on. He then showed Dwalin how the arrows controlled the volume and channels. After finding a sports station for Dwalin to watch (as he seemed awfully fond of Muggle football), Bilbo sat down next to the wizard.

"So, how are you doing, Dwalin?" the former hobbit asked, a thousand questions on his mind.

Dwalin snorted. "Great. I'm watching Muggle football and starving because some Halfling doesn't want me to eat."

"Now, there's a perfectly good reason why I won't let you eat. I feel that we should wait for the others before we dig right in," Bilbo replied. Dwalin rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the telly's screen. "Fine, be that way. Don't engage in a civil conversation with me."

It wasn't long until the doorbell rang again, and Bilbo was surprised when he found Balin standing on the other side. Instead of having his usual forked beard, the wise old former dwarf wore no beard. Though, Bilbo noted, he still had his white hair combed neatly to the side. Like most wizards, and his old counterpart, he wore a red robe. The former dwarf could be recognized by his twinkling, knowing eyes. With a 'good evening,' Balin bowed lowly before Bilbo.

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal with me, Balin," Bilbo said, leading his old friend into the hallway. Dwalin found his older brother and stole the former dwarf away from Bilbo. With a small smile, Bilbo looked on as they chatted all while trying to sneak some food away from the table. At least this time they didn't butt heads.

"No, no, no! I told your brother, Balin! No eating until everyone gets here!" Bilbo reprimanded, smacking Balin's hand away from the ham. "We're going to have a civilized meal this time, I mean it!"

"Hasn't changed a bit," he heard Balin say wistfully, ignoring Bilbo's glare.

The doorbell rang once more, and Bilbo swore his heart stopped beating. If he had been correct in memory, then two former _dead_ dwarves were on the other side of the door. The thought sent Bilbo's mind reeling as he made his way to the hallway.

His breath hitched when he opened the door and two young men were standing outside. The older of the two still had his blond hair and baby blue eyes, though he was without his familiar mustache. His brother stood tall with curled hair hanging to his shoulders, dark eyes staring down at Bilbo. Fíli had been the first one to step forward, placing a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder with a large smile on his face. "Good to see you, Mister Baggins."

It didn't take long to be engulfed in their hugs. Bilbo could feel the tears fall freely down his face as he stumbled like an idiot as he told them, "I can't believe that you're in front of me and alive. When Gandalf said you were doing quite well, I nearly lost it."

"Tell me about it, Mister Boggins!" Kíli exclaimed with a giant grin on his face. "Do you know how good it feels to be alive and with magic?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes at Kíli's outburst as he led them further into his home, wiping the tears from his face. "You better not have mud on your shoes this time, Kíli!"

"Never!" came the cheery response. Bilbo shook his head once more as Dwalin explained to the lads that they couldn't have food (which Fíli complained loudly about).

The doorbell rang once more, but this time Bilbo was prepared. "You lot better not be pressed against the damn door this time!"

He hesitated before opening the door, expecting a sea of dwarves to come crashing into his house. When he saw that they were all standing there with amused looks on their faces, he let go of the gulp of air he was holding in. "Well, come on in!" he told them and moved out of the way for all eight formers dwarves to enter his home.

The first to come in had been Óin and Glóin, the former wearing a Muggle hearing aid instead of carrying his trumpet. Glóin still had his fiery red hair and beard, only shorn short. Both looked vastly different without their hair and intricate braids, but of course he knew who they were.

"Nice to see you again, laddie," Glóin greeted kindly with a nod towards Bilbo. "Nice place you got here."

"Thank you, Master Dwarf - err, wizard," Bilbo replied with an awkward bow.

Glóin chuckled. "We're all still dwarves, except for maybe Ori here."

Glóin pointed to a small figure hiding behind who seemed to be Dori. She was a tiny thing, shorter than Bilbo, with bright auburn hair pulled back in a loose bun. At Glóin's wording, she promptly glared at the former dwarf.

"I'm still Ori! How many times do I have to tell you that?" she snapped, face turning red. Glóin chuckled once more, as did his brother.

"He's just having a good laugh," Dori explained carefully, patting his little sister on the head. With a huff, the young girl pushed past Glóin and went straight into the living room.

"Who the hell are you?" Kíli's question could be heard, causing Óin and Glóin to laugh. Bilbo chuckled awkwardly as he looked pointedly at Dori. The former dwarf sighed, bringing a hand to his face.

"Ori was born a girl in this lifetime. While he's completely fine with it, everyone seems to enjoy bringing it up and making fun of him," Dori explained sadly. Nori stepped forward with a scowl on his face, his bright red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. For a moment Bilbo had to realize who he was, used to the extravagant hairstyle the dwarf used to wear. The scars littering Nori's face and neck, however, made Bilbo curious as to what the old thief did.

With a snarl, the middle child of 'Ri said, "I can't help but want to pummel whoever makes fun of my baby sister, and I equally want to pummel those who keep calling her a he."

Bilbo backed away from the former dwarf, remembering to keep that information at the front of his mind, as Nori and Glóin began to argue.

"It's all good fun," Glóin said stiffly, not backing down from Nori.

"No, it's not. Ori has always been sensitive, and now the Company is turning on her!"

"No we're not," a familiar brogue stated, and soon Bofur was at the frontline of the debate. "I can say right now that we all respect yer baby sister. It's just goin' 'ta take some time 'ta get used to."

Nori grumbled something under his breath, possibly a string of profanities if Bilbo knew him well enough. The two 'Ri brothers stalked off into the dining room, Óin and Glóin following them.

Bilbo turned to the 'Ur brothers. Bifur still looked the same, only this time he didn't have an Orc axe lodged in his skull. Instead he had a nasty scar on his throat. Bofur quickly intervened, however, when Bifur began to sign to Bilbo. "He was hit by a curse, yeh see, back during the Second War. Had to learn sign language to properly communicate."

Bofur wore his hair short, dark eyes sparkling with mirth, and wore the same toothy grin. The only thing missing was the silly furred hat he used to wear. "It's good to see you again, Bilbo."

"Likewise," the former hobbit said, moving past Bofur to look at Bombur. The man, without his beard and bald spot, still had the same fiery hair, though he wasn't that large as he was before (though he was still big). To Bilbo, Bombur even looked a bit younger than he did on the quest.

"I'm only thirty-three," Bombur muttered shyly at Bilbo's question.

Bilbo chuckled. "Then you're lucky! I'm turning forty-two soon."

Eventually the entire Company, minus its leader again, were sitting around the living room watching football. Bilbo had been pleased that the room could house such a large amount of people, even though a good majority of them needed to stand. He quickly glanced around the room, finding the three youngest members sitting together on the sofa, Ori in the middle of the two brothers.

"So you're a girl," he heard Fíli say slowly to an irate Ori.  
"The name is Olivia to you, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped saying that," she growled, but Fíli only grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"I like this Ori better," he commented to Kíli, who appeared to be more interested in the telly than the girl next to him. "This one actually tells you when you're annoying him."

Ori swiftly stood up from her seat and stalked over to an awaiting Dori, where the older man promptly pulled her into a hug. Bilbo cleared his throat, wishing to defuse the awkward situation.

"So it seems that Thorin is the last one to come again," he commented lightly, causing Dwalin to snort.

"He'll always be fashionably late, no matter what world he's in.

It didn't take long, though, when the final ring came. Only ten minutes late, Bilbo told himself as he made his way to the door.

"Bilbo," breathed Thorin, engulfing the former hobbit with his arms. Bilbo sighed as he fell against Thorin's chest, not paying attention to the small gathering behind him. All the dwarves were standing in the hallway with goofy and knowing grins on their faces. Sadly for Bilbo, Thorin had been the first one to pull away, and the former hobbit couldn't help but miss the warmth radiating from the former king.

"Now that everyone is here," Gandalf said, breaking the moment. "I think it's time to discuss the dire situation that we're all going to be facing these coming months."

Bilbo blanched. What on earth was Gandalf talking about?


End file.
